


Small But Perfectly Formed

by amyfortuna



Series: 2015 Season of Kink Card 2 [4]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Body Fetish, Dwarf/Elf Relationship(s), First Time, Interspecies, M/M, Size Difference, Small Penis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-01
Updated: 2015-12-01
Packaged: 2018-05-04 10:47:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5331353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amyfortuna/pseuds/amyfortuna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maedhros is worried about the size of his cock. Azaghâl demonstrates to him that it measures up perfectly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Small But Perfectly Formed

**Author's Note:**

> This is in response to a challenge on FFA to write 3-5 lines with a kink. I've revised and expanded what I wrote there into a full story. The kink was 'small dick worship'. 
> 
> Fulfils my 2nd Season of Kink square for 'body fetish'.

Azaghâl wonders for a moment how it will be for Maedhros: the tall elf will surely have a cock to match, and might fail to be impressed by his own, which of course is perfectly in proportion for a dwarf, but perhaps less than impressive for an elf. 

But when he turns, Maedhros is lying draped out on the bed of furs, one knee up to hide his cock from view, and Azaghâl wanders over, curious and naked. Maedhros is looking down and blushing furiously, so Azaghâl slides a hand up his leg - his long, long leg - and slowly encourages him to show himself. 

To his relief, Maedhros is of a good size, if he were a dwarf, and Azaghâl nuzzles against the pale member rising from the fire-red curls. He can't resist taking it in his mouth, finding that it fits him like it was made for him. He slowly sucks at it for a time, enjoying the feel and the weight of it in his mouth, and the way Maedhros arches and moans into his touch when he curls his tongue around it. 

Maedhros is still blushing, a warm rosy colour spreading down from his face to his arms and chest, and he's hiding his face behind his hand. "My mother called me _well-shaped_ ," he murmurs, "but I fear that in this way I am not so much." 

Azaghâl lets Maedhros' perfect cock slide out of his mouth, and peels his hand away from his face. Such slander had to be stopped in its tracks. "Your mother was right," he says firmly. "This is a cock I would be proud to have inside me." 

Maedhros' mouth slackens at that in slight shock, and Azaghâl takes the opportunity to climb forward and kiss him, press him back into the warm furs of the bed. They have kissed before, of course, but always with Azaghâl leaning awkwardly up and Maedhros on his knees, still too tall. But lying down, they fit together perfectly. 

Maedhros' hand roams over Azaghâl's body, carding through his chest and back hair, idly playing with his braids. Azaghâl isn't idle either; he reaches for the oil on the bedside table, and presses two fingers inside himself immediately. Maedhros holds out his hand, and Azaghâl tips a little of the oil into it, then sets it back on the table. 

After stroking himself firmly with his oil-covered hand, Maedhros adjusts them so Azaghâl is at the right angle, and once Azaghâl withdraws his fingers and nods, presses inside. They both gasp with the pleasure of it, and Azaghâl's eyes slide shut for a moment. Then he opens them again to look at Maedhros' face, lost in pleasure, mouth a little open with it, head tipped back, eyes closed. The feel of Maedhros' cock inside him is like nothing he's ever felt, and he thinks Maedhros must be feeling the same way, from the look on his face. 

They rock together slowly, and after a moment, Maedhros opens his eyes and leans forward to kiss Azaghâl, his arm around Azaghâl's waist. The kiss is warm and sweet and slow, in the same way that their fucking is, and Azaghâl feels as though he could drown in the taste of Maedhros' mouth, in the way Maedhros feels inside him. 

Maedhros' thrusts inside him increase in speed bit by bit. It's as though they are climbing up a long mountain together and each thrust takes them a little higher, a little closer to the peak. After a moment, Maedhros fumbles with his intact hand, inserting it between their bodies and taking Azaghâl's cock into it. His hand is warm and slick from the oil. Azaghâl does not know which feels better and wants to thrust forward into Maedhros' hand and back onto Maedhros' cock at the same time.

He wears a dreamy meditative look, Maedhros does, as he carefully works Azaghâl between those two points of bliss, and Azaghâl's eyes never leave Maedhros' face, admiring the beauty and perfection of it - even more beautiful for its scars now - until he comes, shuddering in Maedhros' arms, eyes falling closed with the sweet rush of orgasm. Maedhros cries out then, a long low cry, and comes inside him, warm and wet, falling backward into the furs, trembling and arching into him again and again in long pulses. 

Azaghâl nuzzles against Maedhros' throat, enjoying the faint marks his beard leaves on his lover's pale skin as he does so. Maedhros makes a contented sound beneath him, smiles, and curves both arms around Azaghâl, holding him close, still breathing hard against him. 

"You may still be too tall, elf," he says at last, smiling against Maedhros' skin, "but when it comes to love, you are perfectly formed."


End file.
